a hopeless romantic | r.s

Chapter Thirteen

Lane ran towards the Refuge, ignoring the crisp air, shaking with rage. She ran, and she ran, and she ran, fully aware of what awaited her, but not being able to stop herself. She ran for her own sake, yet also for the sake of everyone who lived in that lodging house. There were no doubts that their home was now in danger of being searched and talked about. She ran because, for once, she knew she was doing the right thing. She ran with the intent of getting her revenge on Frisks once and for all.

And she had to admit, it felt good to be running towards something for once.

She only pushed herself harder when the grim looking prison came into view. She knew that that was where Frisks would be, seeing as it had been where Lane was taken to. The girl never liked to move around very much, and why not use the Refuge now that it was empty? The place was probably a palace in her eyes.

The same couldn't be said for Lane. The endless hours spent with Snyder replayed through her mind again and again, making her hands clammy. But she was determined. She would not allow herself to be pushed around by her fears and past traumas when she was so close to being face to face with Frisks once more.

"Open tha door!" Lane hollered, pounding her fist against the wooden structure of it as she did so. "Frisks, stop hidin' behind me bruddahs 'n jus show yerself already!"

Frisks' face popped out from above. "Password?"

Lane gritted her teeth. "Let me in, or else I'll gut ya from tha inside out!"

"Dat ain't it!"

"Jus let me in!"

Lane's rationality hadn't been the only thing telling her not to leave the lodging house. Soon after her and Finch's messy argument had taken place, Crutchie, Albert and Jack had come barreling through the doorway, demanding to know what had happened and why, for Pete's sake, was Lane in the pape?

She'd had no answer to give them, and Crutchie was quick to inform her that Finch had mentioned there'd been a fight between them to do with the papes, which they'd had no other choice but to sell. The papes which accused her of committing murder and theft. Apparently, he'd ran into the boy after he'd stormed out. Jack proceeded to tell her that Finch had ordered him not to let her leave the lodge, for everyone's safety.

That had pushed her past the breaking point. Who was he to tell her what to do? And so she'd left anyway, ready to get some answers.

She'd waited far too long.

With that last thought turning in her mind, she watched, chest blooming with hope, as the door to the Refuge opened, and she was let inside. It didn't take long for her mind to connect the two boys guarding the doors as the ones who'd helped Crutchie walk to her when she'd visited that one time. The loose, rotting laces from her shoes clacked against the cold cement floor, echoing throughout the prison.

"Ise he-ah!" Lane shouted. "Now, what do ya want from me?"

Frisks' haughty laugh travelled down the staircase, reaching Lane, and the fiery redhead flared her nostrils before grabbing the squeaky banister and storming up to the second floor to where Frisks was.

She found her seated at the top, eyes gleaming with crazed amusement. "So, ta what do I owe dis pleasure?"

Lane scowled at the words, remembering when they had come from her own mouth far too well. It was difficult to resist the urge to curse her old self. "Yer tha one behind tha pape. I don't know how, but you is. Dat's what you was tryna tell me, wasn't it? You was warnin' me."

"And dey called ya smart."

"Dis time, wese doin' dis my way," Lane snapped. "Not yer way, or me bruddahs' way, or anyone else's. My way, 'n dat's it. Ise sick 'a dis."